Gold, Black, and Thunder
by jAnon
Summary: The Legend of Fire Mountain, as told by a member of the Nibiru Tribe.


Let me thread the needle.

In the time of red leaves and red earth, three demons flew down from the Sacred Seat on Fire Mountain. The first had hair gold as the sun. The second had eyes black as night. The third had a voice like thunder. The demons had escaped from the wrath of Bog and hid under the sea- gold, black, and thunder.

They were mischievous demons, always creating some new trouble. They liked to disguise themselves in our clothes and skin and meddle with our affairs, though Bog had forbidden it. Once, the Gold stole the Scroll of Bog and read it to the Thunder. Thunder laughed until the mountains shook and Black, quiet in his compassion, added new stories for us to follow. Another time, Thunder poured salt water into our elder's wounds, gave bitter water for our elder to drink, and used tree leaves to cover the broken skin. Our elder passed down this knowledge and we thank Thunder for his gifts, but we shake our fists at his laughter.

Every time they accomplished some mischief, they went back to the sea. There they transformed into their demonic forms, with shining scales of red and brown. There they sat together and told stories of each others' feats. They made merry and happy, eating coral pearls and inviting the fish to their hospitality.

But not all was right on Fire Mountain. Bog had been watching them interfering with our affairs. Bog rumbled and spat with anger when they shared some new demonic knowledge. He stirred the ancient fires. He breathed great black air into the trees. He swore to punish us for seeking out the three demons and worshiping them before him. He prepared a great fire, the worst fire of all time, to consume our land and lives.

This is the eye of the needle.

The fish of the sea knew what Bog planned. They listened to the fire under rock and shivered with fear. They spoke to the demons and warned them of Bog's plan. Thunder, Gold, and Black feared for us. They knew they were powerless to stop Bog- Bog could eat them all with his fire; he could turn them to grey dust. But Gold could not stand by and watch as we were killed. Black agreed. Thunder gathered a shroud of secrecy and they thought all night, how to stop Bog's rage.

In the middle of the night, Black stole up to the Sacred Seat. He thought he could speak to Bog and calm his rage. He offered gifts and soft words. But Bog would not hear him. Bog seized him and threw him back into the sea. The mountain rang with Bog's terrible words, that he would kill them next. He swore to cover all the lands and seas in fire, where everything burned. When Gold and Thunder learned of this, they knew they had no choice. They must fight Bog, and die.

The three demons shuddered, listening to the red churn in water. When dawn came, each took their land forms. Once more, Gold and Thunder stole the Scroll. We were so afraid of Bog's wrath, we sought to kill the mischief makers who had given us so much. We did not know they were leading us to safety, away from the mountain.

Black went into the heart of the fire. A terrible battle took place. Bog was certain he would have victory, but Black was clever. He had stolen Bog's sword the night before, and as Bog burned him alive, he thrust the sword into Bog's belly. We can still hear the scream of the mountain today, when the wind descends and the rocks groan. Black killed Bog and stopped the fire, but burned to black ash. His blood is what stains the black ground and brings black death to the red leaves- the victory of a demon over Bog.

Thunder and Gold went back to the mountain, searching in vain for their friend. They did not know Black would go to the heart of the fire. He had slipped away from them in the midst of the chaos. The demons' hearts were broken. They found no pleasure in eating coral pearls or swimming with the fish of the sea. They could not bear the sight of us, for whom Black had sacrificed his life. And so one day they built a great ship under the sea. It rose from the waters like the moon emerging through clouds. With a mighty roar, Gold and Thunder left our lands and never returned.

Every year we climb up the mountain in the black of night. Every year we watch the sun rise from its peak. Black did not heal us, or give us trouble. He did not speak to us or touch our skin. We thought him indifferent to our fates. He had followed Gold and Thunder down the mountain, but he did not follow them that day. For this we did not understand of Black: he loved life above all things, and loved the sunrise. For this, we offer water of his beloved sea, and gold thread, and laughter as loud as thunder. That he may remember his friends, and that he may not be alone.

This is the thread and the needle.


End file.
